I will know you as a draft through the room, stirring the curtains of my skirt to peek at my knees, your lips still resting just there. Briefly, surrounded. I will know you as the ink that rubs into the edge of my palm, stained like ruby lips where I can faintly, still, make out the letters of your name. I will know you as the stem of your R’s, the curve of your L’s like limbs locked around your neck, my thighs at your ears. There is no need to exchange names, I know of many ways to meet you.
